


Dealing With It All

by Necromania



Category: Homestuck
Genre: After Game, Anxiety, Coping, Depression, Just a bunch of babies taking care of other mentally ill babies, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Multi, Post Game, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spoilers, no smut (yet), only tagging the relationships so far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6657793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Necromania/pseuds/Necromania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of everything, what's left? You can smile and pretend everything is okay, but you don't walk away from a battle like that without scars. </p>
<p>Just some drabbles about everyone dealing with the aftermath of the game. They all live in one house and polyamory is common. Smut in later chapters!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dealing With It All

(Dirk)

It was quiet again.  
Quiet in this house was strange. A calm before the storm, you could say, especially if you knew of all the residents living in this contained space. Dirk never liked the calm. It always reminded him of what came before the game. The constant abandonment. The constant state of loneliness. No, being quiet was never for Dirk. Especially not now.  
His head thunked against the hard door of the closet wall to get some kind of noise, any kind of noise. His thoughts picked up again and then there was too much noise. Too many what if?’s. He slammed his head against the wall harder, trying to find a medium where the dying screams of all he loved turned back into senseless white noise because anything would be better than to hear and see the deaths of them all over again. His thoughts were catching up with him again as the white noise returned to the former cries. His hands came up and gripped at his hair, his face still pressed against the wall. The silence of the house was too much when you are left alone to your own thoughts.  
Sudden noise intruded on the silence as the closet door was pulled open. He knew who it was. The only other person who could wake up this early and immediately notice his absence was Dave. His brother, his idol, the only father figure he ever knew, but at the same time he wasn’t. It was kind of funny really, how he could be so similar yet so different at the same time. Dave slipped in, shutting the door behind him as he sat down. No words were spoken as he pulled Dirk’s fingers away from his temple, untangling them from his hair. Dave tugged him away from the wall, pulling him into the side hug that Dirk had gotten used to in this situation. “It’s okay Dirk. They are okay. We made it.”  
The few times that he had called him something other than dude or bro never left the closet. Dirk’s brain whirred as he tried to steady himself. He moved to lean on Dave’s chest, using his heartbeat as something to ground himself. Thump Thump. They were alive. Thump Thump. Dave was alive. Thump Thump. He was alive. Thump Thump. Dave can tell physically when the night terrors stop plaguing him because he fully relaxes, slumping even further against him. Dave’s hand comes up to rest in Dirk’s soft hair, stroking slightly. It’s as if all of the muscles in his body have given up. “Dave… What if I mess up again? What if I get like that and no one can pull me back?”  
It takes a while before he responds, but his hand kept the rhythm of his heartbeat. Eventually he shifts so Dirk is leaning more on his shoulder. “I will pull you back. We will get you no matter what. You mean too much to us Dirk. We all love you, no matter how much you might fuck up. We’ll always have and we always will.”  
He seemed to accept it, slumping back onto his chest, lulled back into the silence that didn’t really feel all that quiet anymore. This is where Karkat, Jake and John would find them hours later, asleep in the closet as they had been so many times before.

(John)

The wind howled on the rooftop where John sat meditating. He let it surround him, the whistling and whipping doing wonders to calm him down. He did this a lot lately, and he had the right to. He had seen some tough shit and it really messed him up. He had heard of others having night terrors, one example being Dirk who was often found with Dave in one of the many closets scattered across the mansion of a house, but he never thought of the things that plagued him as night terrors. They didn’t come when it was quiet or when he was left to his own thoughts. Instead they came when small things happened, like when Roxy dropped a mug and screamed and he about tore the house down, thinking it was Lord English coming back to rip away the things he loved and held dear. He flinched every time he saw something oil like, convinced his denizen would suddenly not be satisfied and come to drown him again, which in retrospect was silly because he could just make it disappear, but it frightened him nonetheless. Sometimes Karkat had to put up with long cuddling sessions just because John literally couldn’t let go in fear of Karkat getting killed again (not that Karkat actually minded, these sessions were just as good for him as they were for John).  
The wind was calming in a way that no one but him and the Nitrams seemed to understand. It was something he could control, something that wouldn’t turn against him. People and feelings were unpredictable, just like the game, and that wasn’t something that he could deal with for a long period of time without a break. He sighed, watching how his breath seemed so eager to join the whirling winds. It’s almost ironic how the wind and air grounded him more than anything else. Over the roaring of the wind he heard someone coming up the stairs to the roof. It unsettled him, but he knew it wasn’t any of the imps who used to haunt his house. A shock of blonde hair peered out of the door and a smile lit up his face. “Hey Rox.”  
She beamed at him, seeming to merge through his barrier of wind to sit next to him. They sat in silence for a while, just listening to the wind. He liked to use this time to take in her appearance, or Dirk’s if it was him. They had such similar blonde hair, each almost equally soft except when Dirk gelled his up. Hers fell in a light wave, as she hadn’t ever gotten around to trimming it since they had arrived. It had been a couple of months, so it fell over Roxy’s shoulders, making a golden halo of light around her as she walked. Her pink eyes always held a spark of life to them, even when the bags under them threatened to take over. John had never been more proud of someone. She hadn’t gone back to drinking and had even started helping the others find more creative coping mechanisms than alcohol. She was his support, just as he was hers and Dirk’s. He hadn’t ever been so thankful.  
“Dirk is back. He came back into his senses earlier and Jake and I finally managed to pry him away from Dave. He probably wants to see you, and so do I. Sometimes I’d guess that you sleep up here if I knew you weren’t with Dirk and me, you nerd.” Her cherry voice soothed him, almost as much as the breeze did. He smiled and playfully nudged her with his shoulder. “Alright. Wouldn’t want to keep Dirk waiting, now would we?”  
He stood and offered her his arm. “My lady?”  
She accepted it, standing up and looping hers through his. “Of course.”

(Roxy)  
Lonely is living in the future. Roxy knew this better than a lot of others. She sat on the beige leather couch in one of the living rooms, holding a mug of cooling tea. She looked on as a vapor trail rose through the air, dissolving the higher it went. Normally she would be cuddling with Dirk, talking with John, or watching movies with Cronus, but occasionally she needed a break from it all. The game had its effects on everyone, even her, much to her chagrin. It left her with a constant feel of unease, as if everything was always out to get her, except slowly. It would creep up on her, seizing the air in her lungs and causing her to curl up into a ball. ‘Or drink tea like I’m doing now,’ she mused.  
She closed her eyes and hummed for a bit, taking another sip, and felt rather than saw the couch dip beside her. A slightly rough hand slid into her free one and a smile spread across her face. Cronus was a blessing during times like those, especially when John couldn’t be there. He leaned in close, pulling her comfortably into his side. “Penny for your thoughts doll?”  
The pet name sent a slight giggle through her. The nerd beside her hadn’t ever seemed to grow out of his greaser phase but she honestly didn’t care. She would always love him and all his quirks. She hummed again before responding. “I don’t want to lose any more of my family Cro. It already hurts enough with the memory of them dying. What if Jane dies and we can’t heal anyone anymore? What if someone catches a disease that nothing can heal? We’ve come too far to lose now Cronus.”  
He shifted slightly, kissing her head. “We’re not going anywhere doll. The game is over; we can’t lose anymore. Jane won’t die, we won’t let her. No one will catch anything worse than the flu, and even then we can heal them. Don’t be too hard on yourself babe. We will make it through the aftermath, okay?”  
She sipped her tea, snuggling even farther into his chest. Nothing was forever. Here and now would pass you by if you live in the past. It might not be forever, but right now, love was enough. Roxy hadn’t ever been more thankful.


End file.
